


I’ll Stay Here Forever (Buried in Your Love)

by BananaChef



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 43 Kisses and Counting, Awkward Flirting, Blushing, Episode: s08e04 The Last of the Starks, F/M, First Time, Fluff and Smut, HALF OF MY OTP DIED BEFORE I EVEN GOT THE CHANCE TO WATCH THEIR LOVE BLOOM, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, Jaime Lannister Does Not Know How to Flirt, Jaime is a softie, Knight Brienne of Tarth, Marriage Proposal, Oral Sex, POV Third Person, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Romance, Romantic Fluff, buT I’M IN MOURNING Y’ALL OK, heart eyes, mostly Brienne but then at the end my brain started spewing out some stuff from Jaime’s head so yeah, no beta we die like (wo)men, yes i know that there’s a lot of them, yes this is yet another d&d braime spitefic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:34:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24546232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BananaChef/pseuds/BananaChef
Summary: “What are you doing?” she asked softly, the firelight playing in her eyes as her hands froze.“Taking your shirt off,” he replied easily, hand frozen on her shirt.After a second, when he realized she had finished untying his own, Jaime met her charged gaze. He dropped his hand from her collar and ran his fingers through his hair nervously, taking a step away from Brienne.“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have. I mistook your action as consent. I wasn’t going to take it off unless you’d given me explicit consent, of course, but I assumed that you were alright with me taking off your shirt—”“Oh, shut up.”Suddenly her lips were on Jaime’s, and all he could do was kiss her back, tangling a hand in her just-long-enough blonde hair.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister & Brienne of Tarth, Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 6
Kudos: 131





	I’ll Stay Here Forever (Buried in Your Love)

**Author's Note:**

> I have no fucking clue if I got their characterizations right, but I already spent two months writing this and my brain’s really tired.
> 
> Big thanks to my friend Mariana for all their encouragement! You can find them on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard/blog/schereeer) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/schereeer). Also, special thanks to [Ser Mom](https://twitter.com/briennelovesyou) and [Ser Dad](https://twitter.com/jamlanlovesyou): without them, this fic would lack forty-three kisses.

_Tyrion Lannister can die in a hole. Being a virgin has nothing to do with anything. Jaime doesn’t care, right? Why do I even care what Jaime thinks in the first place?_

Brienne sighed and walked over to the dwindling pile of firewood, picking one up and tossing it into the fire after a few strides. The flames quickly claimed the log, flaring upwards for a moment before falling back to normal, a steady heat filling the room. A knock sounded at the door as she stood back up, and Brienne curiously went to answer it.

On the other side stood none other than Jaime Lannister, still as ruggedly handsome as ever, even in his somewhat inebriated state.

“You didn’t drink,” he said by way of explanation, walking past the knight into her room.

“I didn’t drink?” she questioned as she closed the door.

Jaime set down his jug of wine and poured some into one of the glasses he’d brought. “In the game,” he elaborated.

“I drank?” Brienne questioned again, crossing across the room behind him.

 _“In the game!”_ Jaime said in response once more. “This is Dornish!” He looked behind him, gesturing with the jug, before looking to his side to find Brienne there.

She frowned, her eyebrows furrowed. “This is not the game,” she told him sharply. “This is _only_ drinking.”

“Suit yourself,” Jaime responded cockily, handing her a glass.

Brienne took it but hesitated; upon seeing no threat or ill-intent in Jaime’s mannerisms, she took a large gulp of the wine. When she was done, she stared at Jaime, eyebrows still furrowed, before her eyes trailed down to his chest. Half of her wanted to see under his— _no._

Jaime seemed to get flustered at the intensity of her stare and took a deep breath in and out, fidgeting around. “You keep it warm enough in here,” he mumbled, walking past her to the bed as he shed his leather jacket.

Brienne turned to face him and set down her cup, wiping her hands clean on her trousers. “It’s the first thing I learned when I came to the North. Keep the fire going. Every time you leave the room, put more wood on.”

“Well, that’s very diligent—very responsible...”

“Piss off.” It was meant to be an insult but fell rather short from hurting.

“You know the first thing I learned in the North?” Jaime started, walking over to Brienne; his eyes strayed to just below her collar before up to her eyes. “I _hate_ the fucking North.”

“It grows on you,” she stated calmly, perhaps even sympathetically.

He seemed to falter for a second as he gazed into her eyes before looking away as he walked over to the end table.

“I don’t want things growing on me,” Jaime muttered, pouring himself a drink. “How about Tormund Giantsbane. Has he _grown_ on you?” Brienne looked at him as if to say _Really?_ as he continued before taking a sip of his wine, raising his eyebrows suggestively. “He was very sad when you left.”

“You sound quite jealous,” she observed, half whispering it, as if saying it aloud would make it less true.

Jaime thought for a moment before nodding. “I do, don’t I?” Brienne was gazing at him, yet he was still too flustered to meet her gaze for more than a moment before looking away. “It’s bloody hot in here,” he said with a self-deprecating smile and breathless laugh, starting to fiddle with the strings of his shirt.

When they wouldn’t loosen after a few seconds he attempted to look down, spluttering embarrassedly. Bringing the strings to his mouth, he tried using his teeth to pull them.

After a silent, awkward moment of this, Brienne pushed his hand away and began to untie the strings of his shirt herself. “Oh, move aside.”

Jaime looked up at her, frozen in place as she pulled him closer so he was fully facing her to make it easier to untie the knotted strings. He couldn’t look away from Brienne—his eyes roamed over her face, from her eyes, her brows, the curve of her cheek, and finally to her lips, where he firmly planted his gaze.

Casually, as if it were the most natural course of action, Jaime reached up to the drawstrings of Brienne’s shirt. (Perhaps in a different world, it would’ve been; how she would’ve liked to live in that world...)

“What are you doing?” she asked softly, the firelight playing in her eyes as her hands froze.

“Taking your shirt off,” he replied easily, hand frozen on her shirt.

After a second, when he realized she had finished untying his own, Jaime met her charged gaze. He dropped his hand from her collar and ran his fingers through his hair nervously, taking a step away from Brienne.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have. I mistook your action as consent. I wasn’t going to take it off unless you’d given me explicit consent, of course, but I assumed that you were alright with me taking off your shirt—”

“Oh, shut up.”

Suddenly her lips were on Jaime’s, and all he could do was kiss her back, tangling a hand in her just-long-enough blonde hair.

“You can take it off. I want you to. Unless you need me to do that, too.” Brienne’s hands tentatively trailed down his arms until she reached his own.

Jaime was at a loss for words. She wanted him to take off her shirt— _she_ wanted to take off _his_ shirt! A miracle, to be sure. “I—could you help? My hand... And I wasn’t just saying it’s hot, it really is. That is, you make me very hot. And flustered.”

And then she smiled at him, a smile that reached her eyes, causing a flurry of _something_ to float around in his stomach. Jaime smiled back, guiding her hands to his shirt.

“Truly...?” Brienne asked, and as much as she was flirting with him, there was unmistakable insecurity to her voice.

Jaime realized that, despite not voicing it, she was afraid of being tricked.

“I would not lead a knight on, nor anyone for that matter. I have honor. I believe so. I...I believe that I have changed—for the better.”

Without responding, she lifted the simple cotton garment over his toned body, revealing the compact muscles hidden underneath. Jaime kissed Brienne then, cupping her face with his hand; after a moment, he pulled away, gazing into her eyes.

 _I love you_ , they seemed to say, but Brienne didn’t want to assume things.

With a soft exhale, she untied the last of the strings on her shirt, pulling it open. Revealing, yes, but not something Jaime hadn’t seen before. In spite of this, some part of her wanted to cover up—but the look in his eyes instilled confidence in Brienne. She stood tall, aware of the dilation in Jaime’s eyes as he took in her body.

“All those years ago, you said you weren’t interested,” she stated softly, looking him in the eyes with a gentle smirk.

“You did, too.” There was no hesitation, only truth. He didn’t have to say the unspoken truth that perhaps they’d been wrong. Jaime sighed shakily and grabbed her hands as best he could. “Ser Brienne, will you allow me to stay the night with you?” He placed a kiss on each of her hands as he spoke, his beard rasping across her skin.

Brienne wondered absently what it would feel like between her legs before replying: “Yes, Ser Jaime. You may stay the night with me.”

That wonderful smile of hers—the one only drunk-on-love Brienne would dare to show—appeared, and Jaime grinned with a laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” he answered, attempting to master his expression. “Your smile— _when_ you smile—even when you’re not smiling, though—you’re very beautiful, Brienne.” A moment as her breath caught in her throat. “I’m a lucky man.”

“I’m not beautiful. Don’t say that.”

He boldly cupped her face with his hand, stroking her cheek. “You are to me.”

“Jaime...” she whispered, shaking her head as she tore herself away from his eyes.

“I love you, Brienne; I don’t want to hide from that anymore. I want to _be_ with you.”

Jaime captured her lips with his—soft at first, their foreheads pressed together—getting lost in her taste as she let herself fall into it. Brienne let her hands trail over his torso, gasping when he left her lips to kiss along her jaw and throat.

“Jaime!” she breathed when his lips marked a spot where her shoulder joined her neck.

She dragged her fingers through his hair as he kissed down her chest, stopping just short of her breasts. Jaime stood up straight, tenderly pulling her chin toward him for a gentle kiss as he walked Brienne backward to the bed, gently pushing her shoulders down so she was sitting on the furs.

“May I?” Jaime asked, kneeling on the floor before her; he fingered the fabric of her trousers with his good hand, looking into her eyes.

She nodded, and he smiled before reaching for the strings of her trousers. After a minute or so of watching him struggle, she huffed out a laugh and helped him, shimmying out of her pants and tossing them on the floor. Jaime opened his mouth to say something but cleared his throat first.

“Back in Harrenhal...” he trailed off, taking in the short hairs that hid her sex. “When I saw you... Would it be strange to say that I found you extremely attractive back then?”

“I don’t think I can speak on that.” Brienne blushed, self-consciously pulling her legs together. “I’m not exactly innocent of this myself. Ifound _you_ attractive then, too...”

“No, no, no, don’t do that. You look lovely,” Jaime murmured, placing his hands on her thighs; the cold of his metal hand made her gasp and then shiver.

She blushed even harder, letting him part her legs with his hands before reaching for the bindings that kept his golden hand in place.

“I can keep it on,” he said, causing Brienne to still her hand. “I know it’s not a pretty sight.”

“You lost your sword-hand for _me_. I don’t care if it’s a pretty sight.” She swiftly undid the bindings, allowing Jaime to hold the golden hand as she took off the protective bandages on his stump. “I...I love _all of you_. Don’t ever doubt that.”

Brienne brushed his hair away from his forehead before cupping his cheek, and Jaime leaned into the contact, eyes misty with tears. He closed them, turning his head to press a kiss to the palm of her hand as he collected himself. After a moment, Jaime stood up to place the hand and his bandages on the small table.

He walked back over to Brienne, nonchalant despite the noticeable bulge in his trousers. _Because of me..._ Jaime knelt in front of her once more, grasping her ankle in his hand.

“You know, you have amazing legs. They’re magnificent.” He lifted her leg up, pressing a feather-light kiss to her ankle. “I wonder how many it would take...” He pressed another kiss slightly higher up. “...to reach the other end?”

She parted her legs a bit more, sitting up straighter in an attempt to alleviate the sweet ache between her thighs.

“Why don’t you find out?” Brienne suggested, biting her lip as she blushed. 

Jaime smirked, keeping eye contact as he pressed a kiss to the side of her calf, letting his beard rasp across her skin as he pressed another, and another, and another, until he’d reached her inner thigh. Brienne was clutching the furs that blanketed the bed in her hands, biting her lip.

“That’s...number forty, I believe. I don’t know if I can make it to the end.”

She let out a breath, inhaling heavily. “Why is that?”

“I don’t think you realize this, wench, but the thought of tasting you is more appealing than my favorite meals. In fact, you will probably _be_ my favorite meal.”

Brienne groaned softly, rocking her hips forward to dilute the rhythmic pulses at her core. “Jaime...”

“Oh, Brienne...” He pressed another kiss halfway up her inner thigh. (Number forty-one.) “ _Gods_ , you smell so good...” Another kiss even closer to where she was aching for him. (Number forty-two.)

He placed number forty-three so close to the crease of her leg that Brienne could almost feel his beard against her. She suddenly brought one of her hands over and grabbed him by his hair, pulling him away from her thigh. He looked up at her with a mix of adoration and anticipation, breathing deeply.

“Jaime, please. I need you to—”

“Gods, _yes_ , of course.”

Without preamble, he kissed the nest of curls covering her, relishing in the gasp Brienne gave. Jaime parted the delicate folds of her labia with two of his fingers, using his thumb to spread her moisture. She thrust her hips minutely and Jaime wrapped his right arm around her to hold her steady before licking his way to her clit. Brienne attempted to suppress a groan, gripping his hair in her hand.

Jaime pulled away for a moment, allowing his thumb to circle her clit, not quite touching it. “Let me hear you, wench. No need to be quiet.”

Brienne gasped an affirmative, whimpering at his teasing. He suddenly swiped his thumb over the nub, causing her to gasp, tremble, and moan liquidly.

“Put your mouth on me again,” she breathed, making eye contact with him through the wonderful haziness in her head.

“As you command,” he acquiesced with a smirk, his eyes aglow with something that pierced through her lust-addled brain: _love_.

She nearly choked up with the force of emotion that came over her but then Jaime’s tongue was on her, his lips joining a moment later. He lapped up her moisture as a dehydrated man would drink from a flask of water, gasping for air when he finally pulled away.

“You taste amazing,” he stated, wiping his face with his hand before getting back to work. “Have you ever touched yourself?”

Brienne blushed despite her compromised position but answered with surety. “I have.”

Jaime hummed approvingly, pressing a kiss to the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. “This will be so much better than that,” he told her, feigning solemnity.

She squirmed in his one-armed embrace as he found her clit with his thumb again, repeating his process from before. Then he replaced his thumb with his lips and tongue, assaulting Brienne’s sensory input. She cried out, hips rolling autonomously as he slid one finger inside, finding almost no resistance. Jaime groaned into her skin, pumping his finger in and out as she trembled in his arms.

“Gods, Brienne...” He slid another finger inside, one of her hands finding purchase in his hair again as she rocked against him. “You’re so wet…”

Jaime managed a third finger, stretching Brienne out more than she thought should be pleasurable—but it undeniably was. She rocked against his fingers, gasping his name as his lips closed around her clit once more. She came like that: head thrown back, one hand gripping the furs, the other gripping his hair—his lips were no longer suckling at her, instead drinking up her bodily fluids as if it was the best drink in the land.

“Jaime...” Brienne said, her voice soft. “Gods, I’ve never... I didn’t realize it could be like that.”

He nuzzled her thigh before pressing a light kiss to her skin. “It can be better. And there are different positions—different paces.”

He didn’t finish the rest of his thought because she cupped his face and pulled him up for a kiss, laying back on the furs. He climbed onto the bed after her, hovering over her body. With nothing but a look between them, the two communicated that Jaime was wearing far too many items of clothing and made quick work of his trousers. He knelt on the furs as Brienne took a moment to take in the shape and length of him—different than at Harrenhal, all those years ago—and her observations led her down a long path of thoughts that made her cheeks go crimson.

She was brought back to the present when Jaime used his hand to angle her face to his. “You can look as long as you want,” he teased, “but if you would like to _do_ something...that would be wonderful.”

“I don’t know how to...pleasure you—not the way you did to me,” Brienne murmured, grasping him with her sword-hand.

He gasped and kissed her, trailing gentler ones down the side of her neck left untouched from his earlier ministrations as he used his hand to guide her own over him.

“You don’t need to,” he gasped into her shoulder, thrusting automatically into her hand. “This is about you. We can—we have time to try new things. What do you want? Right now, what do you want?”

“You.” Brienne took her hand away to tangle both of hers in his hair, capturing his lips with her own. “I want you. Now and forever. And also, I’d like you inside me.”

Jaime laughed, kissing her again before pulling her into his lap. They both gasped at the intense feel of skin against skin, and Brienne rocked against him, loosely wrapping one arm over his shoulder to his muscular back while cupping his face with the other. In turn, he held her close to him with his right arm, his left hand skating across her skin light as a feather.

“Can we—?” he asked, groaning when she rocked against him again.

“Yes,” she breathed, joining their lips as she lifted herself up.

Jaime positioned himself and guided Brienne as she sank onto him, soon sheathing him inside to the hilt. The room was quiet except for the crackling of the fire and their gentle breathing.

“It didn’t hurt?” he managed and he sounded—he sounded wrecked and in awe all at once.

She shook her head, shifting a bit, and— _gods_ , that felt... She didn’t have the words for it, but she knew she needed more. Jaime looked as wrecked as he’d sounded when she rocked against him, both gasping their satisfaction before kissing. He thrust against her when she rocked again, swallowing Brienne’s moan before kissing his way down her throat and chest. He used his arms to help her lift up and then back down on the length of him, both of them moaning loudly enough for anyone passing outside Brienne’s chambers to hear them. Jaime’s lips suddenly closed around one of her nipples, suckling with reckless abandon as she continued to move on his cock and rock against him, forming a rhythm.

“Jaime!” she gasped. “Fucking hells, I’m close.”

He didn’t respond, continuing to assault the nerves of her breast; he moved on to the other once the first was thoroughly pinkened from both his beard and his ministrations. He detached his mouth from her breast with a sensual wet noise, straightening his back to look Brienne in the eyes. Jaime kept thrusting against her on every downstroke of her hips, short grunts manifesting at the back of his throat every time.

“Jaime—” she found herself saying, nearly yelling, but she was cut off by a climax so strong it wrenched the words out of her throat.

After all his clever ministrations, what had sent her over the edge was his whispered, “I love you,” as he gazed at her with the look in his eyes that he’d always had ever since he arrived in Winterfell. The look she now knew to be love.

She came back from the heavens slowly; first noticing the crackle of the fire; then the smell of sweat and—a scent Brienne deemed wholly unique to Jaime (which she would gladly wear as a perfume if she were able); then his gentle hand tracing the contours of her body, his hard length still inside her, the brush of his eyelashes against her cheekbones. She opened her eyes at the last one, pulling away from him enough to see his face.

“You’re so beautiful...” he murmured, smiling up at her, and she couldn’t help but smile back.

“You must be the only one who thinks so, besides my father.” She shifted against him and the smile faded from his face, replaced by an urgent, primal look in his eyes. He didn’t need to ask for her to know what he needed an answer to: “Inside me. There’s likely moon tea around somewhere...”

“And if there isn’t?” Jaime asked, laying Brienne against the pillows and furs. She didn’t have an answer for him. “I won’t have any children of ours born bastards... If you’ll have me, I’d be honored to become your husband.”

He laced the fingers of his left hand with her right as she wrapped her legs around him, pulling him as close as possible, their bodies pressed together. “If we survive all this, we’d be wed on Tarth, and I’d have duties as my father’s heir...” Jaime thrust into her, seeking his end.

“I want you, now and forever,” he whispered, claiming her lips as he drove into her again and again. “Even if your duties take you far away from me. I’ll always want you. _Only_ you, Brienne.”

He found his end with her hand cupping his face gentler than anyone had since he was a child. He came down from the heavens to Brienne’s whispered slew of, “I love you,” which he returned with a kiss. Jaime pulled himself out and rolled next to her, staring at the ceiling for a quiet moment. Then he turned to her and kissed her, sealing his love for her in it—it amazed him that he had the ability to steal kisses from her all the time now...

“Furs or no furs?” he asked with a small smile.

“Furs. It’ll be freezing once the fire goes out.”

They burrowed under the blankets, tangling their bodies together, and fell asleep like that. _I could get used to this,_ was Brienne’s first thought when she woke up to Jaime’s golden visage.


End file.
